Decom-poseur
She's a painting outta focus With No Good Sense Of Intention Shes Authentic
Shes a model of disaster with a heart of revolution
She's so innocent, But guilty's her plea
Everybody wants to save her from herself, they really want to save themselves
She's got the grace, of a tourist, with the charm of demolition
She's a poem with meter or rhyme A random design of a flower like a rose no one really knows
She's a master piece deserving restoration or condemnation
Time will tell us if She's a lifer or a decomposeur She's the rose no one really knows
What can I say, my girl likes to listen to the same songs over and over and over ...
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